A Trial of Faith: Ealisay's Aria
by Ryu Niiyama
Summary: The pursuit of love lost and denied is a bittersweet song, rife with sour notes and riotous disharmony. The Lioness slowly grows deaf to all other songs than the burning lament of love deemed unremarkable and unworthy. Even the lilting tune of redemption and enduring love will not turn her from her path. Love is pain...pure and absolute and the Lioness finds rapture such cruelty.


Ealisay's Aria

By: Ryu Niiyama

I suppose this is the fluff chapter entry to this series…but it's my version of fluff so still bleeding angst everywhere. I've been a bit nervous that the fact that the plot threads that I put in each entry are somewhat too sparse as I work on the whole series simultaneously and post whatever is finished (or mostly finished. One work is not done but still posted…there is a reason for that.) so since I've only got a few entries left I am trying to make the plot more obvious. Also warning, I'm butchering French again.

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Celene had not expected that throwing her lot in with the Inquisition would garner her the power to cement her rule further; at best she suspected that the removal of Gaspard would buy her a few more years of time before her pursuit of a truly equal Orlais brought either an assassin's or Briala's dagger to her throat. Yet she had wrestled stability of a sort from the jaws of discord. Most fortuitous of all, her sweet coeur had come to her seeking a truce of sorts, at least for now.

Unfortunately, in making Briala a noble, Celene had to rescind her other titles for fear that the nobles would attempt to invalidate her claim. Her original plan had been to make Florianne her spymaster, yet considering her cousin's attempt on her life she could hardly be trusted with such a task. The former Left hand of the Divine and the Inquisitor Adaar sent a maiden that came highly recommended, but that meant once again Celene was without a handmaiden. She wondered if Briala ever noticed that the she had been the only one to ever hold the position. The Lioness snorted indelicately at the absurdity of the thought. Likely not. If she did, she would only find fault in Celene using a servant's place to tie them together.

Celene smirked as she thought of the now engaged Ashkaa Adaar. Nobles were nothing if not expedient. Once Lady Adaar's intentions had been made irrevocably known, Ambassador Montilyet wasted little time in binding her beloved to her by law and by blood. Since most nobles marry to secure power they must move quickly to avoid any possible usurpers, a noble marrying for love, must be doubly quick or risk seeing their beloved in the arms of another. Rumor has it that Josephine reduced Sera to tears and threatened to ruin her in no uncertain terms if she even _thought_ about playing a prank during her wedding.

Amused and unable to sleep, Celene dressed herself in a cloak and light riding attire, the clothing suitable enough to hide her identity while she purposefully left her face unmasked. Most would immediately assume she was a foreigner if they did get close enough to notice her face, and none would recognize their Empress anyway. She tucked twin daggers into her belt, shifting the holsters towards her back so she would appear unarmed at first glance. The Empress of Orlais moved to the window and climbed out of it, quickly scaling the scaffolding to reach the roof of her wing of the palace. She grunted slightly at the effort it required, after Gaspard and Briala both had outmaneuvered her so long ago, she'd began to reinforce her training in secret, away from the prying eyes of the other nobles that had their hands in the more visceral and dark methods of the Game.

Carefully, Celene Valmont transformed the Lioness into a creature far more dangerous; yet her first weapon would always be her mind before her body. She had been neglecting her physical training drowning in heartache and resolve in equal measure, she knew but most of her evenings had been spent pouring over tomes and carefully prying information from Morrigan. She smirked as she thought of her Arcane Advisor. Celene knew that Morrigan, in her arrogance, believed that she had outwitted that foolish, _civilized_ Empress of Orlais; that she had wormed her way into Celene's graces by her own wiles. Morrigan was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Celene let her think her an empty headed, idealistic fop because she needed what Morrigan possessed.

Knowledge.

Knowledge, unfettered by the Chantry and as a witch of the wilds, knowledge of artifacts and tomes far beyond the current _acceptable_ purview of the Circle. Fortuitously, Morrigan's ambition had allowed Celene to learn so very much. The Elvhan were _more_ once; beings of majesty, a perfect blending of flesh and spirit. The Veil tore that away, cleaving them from the Fade, and humanity eroded them further still. Yet despite all they had lost, they shown with a natural splendor that invited the lust and envy of humanity.

Celene would see that splendor uncovered, no longer tarnished by human hands that could only darken the Golden City and spew the very corruption that created the darkspawn and the blights. The Elvhan people would never be free so long as humanity kept a boot upon their neck…Briala would never be truly free. Celene Valmont would not abide that. Still, it would be a tumultuous path that she would have to walk now; her attempts to appeal to the better nature of her own kind had failed. Rather than yearning for enlightenment and refinement, for peace and honor, humans sought to posture and steal, to betray and abuse.

Humanity couldn't escape its nature.

So Celene would bend that to her advantage and in turn atone for her own failings. Just because humanity couldn't change, didn't mean it shouldn't try to. If they refused, she would prune the weeds like a faithful gardener…or put them to the torch. Yet she had to take care, lest she fall to her own taint as Corypheus did, although she supposed she could do with a bit of his tenacity. The Inquisitor thought that her true enemy was hidden from the eyes of her allies, but Celene knew how to play the Game with the Nightingale quite well. The right hand of the fallen Warden Commander would never be a friend, as in many ways she was a traitor to her Orleasian heraldry, but Leliana understood what it was to love with her very soul. Through her, Celene saw what love that had become desolation looked like; the Nightingale was an enigma to most, but Celene saw her for what she truly was: A woman that had lost all will to live, but still did so if only to honor the one that she lost.

Leliana was a warning. The Nightingale was the very image of impotent love. For what purpose did love have if it could not protect, if it could not offer a blood shield to keep her most cherished one safe? What worth did her life have when love was only a bittersweet echo and a moss stained monument? Yet Celene would not follow either of their paths; the first Darkspawn and the Nightingale had been burned by that which they loved most. Their conviction had been tested in the fires of adversity and insurmountable odds and both of them had been found wanting. Corypheus' love for his gods and his longing for a seat upon their throne, for a chance to know their divinity intimately had damned not only himself, but the world as well. Leliana had loved her Warden Commander Neria Surana, but not enough to keep her from her self-destruction and for that hesitation, the Nightingale had merely gained a world on the brink of destruction, her faith shattered and her beloved one gone where she could no longer follow.

Celene was better than them both however; She didn't love an empty throne, placing her devotion upon the altar of absent gods and she was fortunate that her love had gone through the fires of betrayal and war and had been tempered to near pristine perfection. She could love Briala and accept that she _had_ _never_ and would never see her love returned. In her unworthiness she could take her future into her hands, and leave Briala with a better one.

Amusingly, Briala had maneuvered herself into a position that kept her within Celene's reach…and thus within her protection. The Eluvian that she'd sent Morrigan to Serault to repair would no longer be needed, as she would not have to use it as a beacon to tempt Briala into playing her hand at revenge more overtly. How strange it was that the hatred of her beloved was almost comforting in its predictability. If she could stay ahead of Briala long enough, she would give her beloved sunlight both the Orlais that would exalt and revere her and her vengeance all in one fell swoop. Yet, Briala's actions were becoming…confusing. She offered honesty, expecting her beloved to use it as leverage; she gave her love expecting it to be deemed unremarkable. She'd lapsed foolishly in that first act of vulnerability, indulging both her ceaseless yearning for her love and laying her weaknesses too plainly to be easily seen.

She would give Briala the truth, but only when she was ready to hear it, anything before and she would only be slain before her time. Briala would never accept that Celene loved her enough to give everything to see her happy, and the only answer she would give Celene would be oblivion. Such a thing would be meaningless if not for the fact that it meant that she would not have completed the maneuvers needed to keep Briala safe. No matter what her beloved sunlight thought of her, Celene was devout in her loyalty and love. Yet that seemed to be the greatest threat to her plans and machinations lay within Briala herself. She expected cunning and anger true, and while she had tasted her vixen's fury Briala seemed somewhat helpless in her reactions. It was as if she didn't know what to make of Celene's honesty or her declarations of love, and she drifted from outright rejection, to hesitant compassion to something drenched in both reluctant bitterness and smoldering passion.

There was an edge to her interactions with Lady Trevelyan as well, so much so that Celene had subtly doubled the guard on the Free Marches noble. Briala hadn't taken to so pathetic of a maneuver as to begin to murder what few friends Celene possessed, but there were times that she felt that those enchanting dusky hazel eyes were going to make the poor elf-blooded human spontaneously combust from pure ire. Such ploys were beneath Briala's sublime mastery of the Game, yet Lady Trevelyan seemed to be baiting them both. Lady Trevelyan had been not so subtly increasing her bids for Celene's attention and affection, but mercifully she also seemed to delight in the friendship shared between them the most; the young noble respecting her boundaries but loving to flirt with them.

The more she pushed amorously, the more Briala looked like she was going to slit her throat or poison her port, and the more the Marquise of the Dales pushed for further negotiation meetings. It made sense if Ostwick posed some threat to Elvhan interests, but it didn't and she and Briala had hammered out their terms upon their first official meeting. They may not be destined to be lovers, but from a purely political standpoint, Briala and Celene knew each other too well to drag out negotiations beyond the joy of testing their wit and strategy against the only true foil either of them possessed. There was a tension growing between them, different from Briala's ineffective though justified outrage and Celene's practical though remorseful planning, something that hinted of sweeter days…

The Lioness shook her head, no she couldn't falter, not now, not yet. Her work was not yet done.

The unmasked Empress of Orlais walked along the roof of the palace, noting both the holes in the guard patrol route and the beauty of the night. She would have very stern words with her General and would put the fear of the Lioness within him in the morning but for now, she was content to wander in relative peace listening to the nocturnal birdsong and the sounds of the night. As she came upon the manor that she'd designated to be the embassy for the Marquise of the Dales she paused and frowned at the startling lack of guard patrols that she saw around the grounds where Briala laid her head in slumber while in Orlais. Perhaps a dismissal would be a better response for her General after all. She would set her spies upon his family and see just how low she could bring him. She had to at least hope that Briala had her own guard in her employ, though she saw no Elvhan, servant, guard or otherwise and the oversight set her nerves on edge.

Swiftly yet quietly, the disguised Empress moved closer to the Dales Manor, landing nearly soundlessly on the roof. Pale blue eyes searched frantically for the best way to approach Briala's bedroom and not take a dagger to the heart for her trouble. She stood, grasping the hilts of her daggers, only to pause as the sound of a flute, ignored in her initial fearful haze, floated to her ears. Carefully, she crept across the small roof towards the sound and the sight that met her nearly caused her to lose her footing.

Briala sat upon a cushioned stone bench, her eyes closed as she played her flute with the aptitude of a master and with the caressing touch of a lover. Her face was unmasked and her hair unbound, cinnamon curls burning brightly under the moonlight. The mocha crème of her skin lay in sublime contrast to the moonlight, the darker tone gleaming with a light of its own. Her eyes were closed and her face tilted towards the full moon, the luminous touch of the celestial body cascading upon her diaphanous nightgown leaving her exquisite form outlined in shadow. For a moment, longing battered Celene so fiercely that she thought she might weep; Briala's beauty and the rare sight of tranquility upon her face nearly driving the Empress to her knees.

She cast an envious glance at the moon, for once she had been her beloved's Moonlight and she ached to hold her heart in her arms as surely as the moon shone upon her form. Her conviction wavered, her steadfast belief in the providence in her unrequited love grew weak, leaving her a woman once again; longing for the woman she loved with all of her being. Not wanting to intrude and take Briala's peace away, Celene settled into a crouch, content to listen to the light, airy sounds of her beloved's flute playing. Though Celene took vocal lessons to further her skills as a bard, she had a natural aptitude for it and thus adored music. Briala rarely used her voice in song, but when she did their voices blended with such harmony that Celene believed in her heart of hearts that despite the cruelty of the society that set them as mistress and slave, they were made for one another. She was wrong of course, but she could never banish the joy Briala in musical ecstasy brought to her. Not quite dozing, but drifting contently, Celene found herself humming softly as Briala began to play a song that she often sang or hummed when she was solely in the Lioness' presence. It had been a favored song of Briala's mother, and after the death of her parents she'd stopped singing it anymore.

She stopped so many things after she lost her parents. Singing, laughing…even her smiles were never the same. Only the grimace of vengeance and then later the glare of betrayal animated her features when her parents crossed her thoughts. Celene wondered what it would feel like to think of one's parents fondly, she didn't know the feeling for she had been their pawn for the throne from her conception to their deaths. The thought that she had played a part in taking them away from Briala, always filled her with sadness…but never remorse. She and Briala both would have been killed had she not given Lady Mantillion what she wanted then. If it meant that Briala survived then Celene would bear the burden of being her betrayer; she might be Maferath reborn but she would not let her actions be spurred by anything other than love. So lost in her thoughts she didn't realize that she was singing softly to the night air, without the musical accompaniment that had stirred her to song in the first place. Opening her own eyes in confusion, Celene looked down and found herself ensnared by dark hazel that had haunted her thoughts since she first truly learned what yearning was.

Briala said nothing, her gaze holding Celene a willing captive before she gracefully extended her hand like an Elvhan Queen of legend. Perhaps not entirely of her own volition, Celene leapt from the roof with acrobatic grace and landed safely, internally preening at Briala's light gasp. She knew that her beloved thought her weak, and with the foolishness of any lover a part of her ego soared knowing that she had taken Briala off guard and demonstrated some of her hard earned prowess. She walked with hesitant steps however, terrified that if she moved with purpose that she would break whatever spell the full moon had cast upon them both.

When she was within a finger's breadth of Briala's hand, the Elvhan woman stood and drew Celene close, turning so that she could face the moon once more. Automatically and with a lover's familiarity, Celene wrapped her arms around Briala, trying not to tremble as the fear that she'd made a mistake struggled to overcome her. Briala settled back, tightly pressing their bodies together and Celene twitched slightly, her emotions at war with themselves. It had been so long, so long since Briala had allowed her touch willingly, so very long since she'd been allowed to hold her. She didn't know what moon madness had overcome them both, but until Briala came to her senses she would allow herself to be weak, if only for tonight.

Briala said nothing, merely drawing Celene's long arms tighter around her and lacing their fingers with her free hand. Her breath caught when she felt her moonlight nuzzle against her hair briefly, the actions obviously unconscious as the human stiffened when she realized what she was doing. Briala merely let out a soft chuckle before she began to sing, beginning the song that Celene had interrupted once again. It didn't take long for the Empress to relax, the warm press of her body becoming comforting and her own voice filled the air intertwining with Briala's. As the last notes of the song began to fade, the wind began to stir softly through the trees and Celene immediately wrapped Briala within her cloak before, embracing the smaller Elvhan once more.

Briala bit her lips, the intimacy of the moment and Celene's burgeoning confidence stirring her mind to the other ways they acted in harmony. She remembered the night that still haunted her dreams, watching Celene's delicate hands roam with desperate longing over her gorgeous body, frantically trying to conjure some sweet memory they had made together. Celene's breathless moans, her lightly sweat glistened skin, the sight of her fingers teasing and caressing her slick womanhood and sliding her fingers deep within made Briala long for hands upon her moonlight once again, giving her pleasure and joy. She started to move her hand to cover Celene's, to draw her touch to her breasts that were growing heavy with need, but the feeling of a warm wetness splashing against her ear cooled her ardor instantly.

Celene...Celene was crying.

Sweet memories of lovemaking and her moonlight's larger form beneath her writhing with yearning evaporated only to be replaced with the memory of the night that the madness of the wicked hearts that tormented Halamshiral brought to them both. She could still feel Celene's large, delicate hands clutching her skirts as if she thought she'd vanish into the night, she could still feel her tears staining her thighs. Her beautiful, broken Lioness was hanging on by a frayed tether and she needed Briala now more than ever. Briala moved to break their embrace so that she could face her human, but long arms locked tighter against her waist and Celene shook her head minutely against the back of her head.

"Please. Stay. I'm sorry ma petit renarde… Sans toi, je ne suis rien, I'm so sorry… Je t'adore… "

Briala covered one of Celene's hands with her own in silent comfort and the gesture only made the Empress weep harder. Briala stayed within her moonlight's embrace until her tears abated and finally she pulled away, turning and reaching into Celene's cloak for a handkerchief. With loving care she wiped at her brokenhearted beloved's face, mildly annoyed that the human could cry prettily and only enhance her beauty. Humming softly she kissed away Celene's tears, her tongue darting out quickly to taste their salt sweetness. Celene's hips jerked forward at the feel of Briala's ministrations, showing how she walked the razor's edge of despair and desire yet Briala gentled her touch, cooing softly even as she reared up to press her lips warmly against her beloved's. Celene balked at first, likely remembering when she lost control and nearly in her mind at least crossed a line that could never be undone. Briala followed her keeping her kisses warm and soothing, not pressing for passion, but instead providing comfort. Celene nearly sagged into her embrace, kissing Briala in return, matching her ardor and the two fumbled backwards until they came to the trunk of a nearby tree. Sliding down in unison, never parting for long the two estranged lovers kissed and held one another with gentle reverence. They stayed like this for a time, not noticing the moon slowly drifting through the cloudless sky before they settled against one another and drifted into slumber.

Celene woke sometime later feeling the warmth of Briala nestle against her and wrapped within her cloak. The Empress reached out and feathered away a curl that had fallen over her brow. What she would give for a lifetime of this, yet she knew she could not let this stand. She would not let Briala walk into the same trap again, Celene's love when returned was poison, inadequate in protecting Briala and forcing her to endure little injustices to keep them together. Briala would never lower her eyes to Celene again, she would never endure the agony of being treated as if she were merely a pretty animal rather than a person with her own thoughts and worth. Briala would not see her people abused any longer just to keep her heart whole; Celene could give her that, she _would_ give her that…if she could just let her go. The silver haired human leaned forward, keeping her voice as low as she could, knowing that Elvhan hearing was better than human.

"In another life, I swear to you that I will become worthy to stand by your side. For now, my splendeur des coeurs perdus, I will give you an Orlais worthy of your radiance."

Carefully, Celene removed her cloak and draped the rest of it completely over Briala. Swallowing a sigh, the Empress moved towards the Manor and informed the doorman inside that Briala had fallen asleep under the tree. He didn't even recognize Celene, actually handing her a few gold coins in thanks for her kindness. Swiftly, the Lioness returned to her chambers. She brewed a pot of tea and lit the candles at her desk. There was much to do.

Celene refused the first two requests for a meeting by Briala, and she should have expected that the third wouldn't have been a request so much as an ambush. She was bidding Lady Trevelyan farewell, when the young warrior leaned forward and bused her against the cheek softly before taking her leave. Celene touched her cheek in confusion, wondering why the young woman seemed insistent to ply her affections upon barren ground. She didn't expect to find Briala standing within the chambers, mask in place but her eyes glittering like diamonds…or knives as she glared at the frozen Empress. Celene's heart wailed at the thought of what this might look like to her beloved and yet she couldn't play the part of the loyal lover. She could suffer a little pain now to redeem herself in the end.

"Lady Trevelyan seems to be taking some rather unusual liberties with the Empress of Orlais is she not?"

Celene's eyes narrowed and she turned and walked into her study, knowing that Briala would follow. Behind her Briala grimaced, annoyed that she sounded so perturbed, but between being awoken the evening before alone with only Celene's cloak and scent to remind her that she had not gone mad, being denied at every turn the chance to properly discuss what was happening between them and seeing that…country bumpkin putting her clumsy, uncouth hands and lips anywhere near Celene's person and Briala was about a hair's breadth from organizing an accident for the amorous noblewoman. Taking a deep breath, the former spymaster calmed her nerves so that she could begin again.

When Celene turned around, Briala was right there, reaching upward and drawing Celene's surprised but unresisting form down. Briala kissed the woman that had been her whole world for so long, this time her kisses were not for comfort but for seduction. The two of them had become experts at kissing within their masks over the years, never clashing, and Briala pulled her beloved's delicious form tighter against her even as she half looked out of the corner of her eye for a soft surface upon which to ravish her Empress. Yet before she could carry out her plans, Celene pulled away with a soft cry, taking several steps back and shaking her head when Briala moved to follow.

"Non, Briala. We cannot, you know this, more importantly it isn't necessary. Stop. Please, I cannot bear it"

Briala blinked disbelievingly, trying to reconcile the Celene that wept her love into her hair and took her longing deep inside while she moaned Briala's name to an empty room, with this woman that kept pushing her away, implying that Briala only wanted something from her…at least something that her heart and her body couldn't provide. Sadly, the former spymaster reached out a hesitant hand towards Celene, only to pull back abruptly. Forlorn hazel met reticent azure and two hearts splintered themselves again, anguish rushing through them as surely as their lifeblood.

"Is there no trust left in you for me, Celene? Do you believe that I can't tell the difference between servitude and love? This isn't the Game, my moonlight, only us."

Celene's pale eyes grew sharp as glaciers and Briala instantly knew she'd pushed too hard. Celene's study was private, but a servant or close advisor could walk in at any time. Before she could amend her words to something less incriminating and yet still continue her entreaty, the Lioness raised one finger with slow, intent poise.

"It is always the Game, Lady Briala. I do believe that any association between myself and Lady Trevelyan is no business of yours Marquise. If I am not mistaken our business is concluded. Orlais and the Dales have reached a satisfactory agreement while We do extend a welcome to you always, We do not believe that you have anything further to discuss with Us, correct?"

Celene was a gentle, yearning lover and always eager to please, but the Lioness was a demanding, resolute sovereign and she would not tolerate dissent. Even more so in light of the most recent betrayal to the throne and it was the Lioness that spoke now, not her moonlight. Briala wanted to say more, but the Lioness was firmly in control and she was expected to show her loyalty to her Empress. "Of course My Radiance, I shall take my leave. Although I do hope that my invitation to next week's ball has not been rescinded?" Celene frowned slightly even as she felt a twinge of hope attempt to come to life within her heart. Briala had learned to modify her titles in a way to show her affection, but in a manner that couldn't be directly challenged. Still she would not let this weaken her resolve…she'd slipped enough already. The Empress nodded and moved to her desk and Briala took it for the dismissal that it was, bowing before her sovereign before leaving.

Briala cursed the hesitancy she'd placed in Celene's heart. Her human needed her, yet she no longer trusted her heart into her care. It seemed strange, when Briala had set schemes against her Celene had trusted her enough to be willing to lay down her life once Orlais was ready. She didn't doubt the Empress' promise for one moment. Once the ground work for her legacy had been laid and a suitable heir named Celene would let, no expect Briala to kill her. Yet Briala herself had never considered such an end before. She would've taken Celene's throne or brought death and ruin to Gaspard most certainly, but to kill her moonlight? Even now the very thought of it made her stomach roll.

It tore Briala apart knowing that Celene expected such a thing of her. She wished it was because the Lioness thought her nothing more than a blood thirsty barbarian, but she knew it was Celene herself that she condemned. The Lioness knew with certainty that her manifest destiny was to rule Orlais, but Celene Valmont the First felt despair at the legacy that her human and noble blood had deposited upon her shoulders. Briala knew that her beloved didn't begrudge being human any more than she begrudged Briala being Elvhan, but it would make the world a bit more fair if they were the same species. Yet Briala had learned the folly of such wishful thinking. They couldn't change who there were and if they could, they likely would have never even met let alone fallen in love. Twisted and tangled and scarred and mangled as it was, Briala had no other name for this tie between them other than love.

She would not see it wither. Not this time.

Celene was grateful for small favors, as Briala left her in peace since their disastrous last meeting. Which was fortuitous in and of itself as Celene had to deal with the squabbling of two minor nobles that had decided to start killing each other's children, allegedly of course. Or it least it would be if they weren't such sloppy players of the Game. The only good that came of this was that both houses were well known for their anti-Elvhan views even though both of them were cheating on their spouses with Elvhan slaves that they forced to their bed. Celene would destroy their standing if not have them executed but she needed time to manipulate the situation so that she was not seen as being biased one way or another.

Unfortunately, no matter how many kings and princes she falsely flattered and flirted with to gain political ground, the tales and rumors of her relationship with Briala still circled. None of them knew which servant Briala had been and none realized that she had elevated Briala to nobility but the tales that the Empress to an Elvhan servant or ten to her bed restricted her overt actions. Celene cursed that insipid play and playwright to the depths of the Deep Roads. Her dealings with the nobles by day and the last tome she was working on translating by night meant that the latest ball came upon her in a flash. Most thought that Celene indulged in these grand balls for self-aggrandizement, but she used them for information, and by often anonymously paying for someone to be found sharing a bed with a married noble, to ruin her minor enemies. There were a few times that a poisoned noble was not due to a failed attack on the Empress' life, so much as an assassination carried out in her name.

Tonight however, was a ball for information and to give herself a much needed respite from avoiding Briala and her own preparations. The world may be tottering on the brink of destruction, but that didn't stop the machinations of humans and Elvhan. Celene stood at the apex of the ballroom, greeting guests and conversing in small talk. She had been engrossed in conversation about the political climate of Antiva that she nearly missed the fashionably late announcement of the Marquise of the Dales. Unbidden, Celene turned at the announcement, only just barely bleeding the eagerness from her movements.

The Marquise of the Dales wore a mask depicting a silver eagle, and Celene bristled at the unspoken message. Sometimes she forgot that Briala knew her every secret… how could they know each other's souls but not each other's hearts? As the Empress got a closer look at the Marquise's ball gown, the human nearly snapped her fan in half as she clenched it in a white knuckle grip. Her colors were an inversion of Celene's own and her gown out shone every party-goer except Celene herself. For once Briala's ears were not hidden by her mask, a deliberate statement and no hair covering tamed her wild silken curls. Her beauty was devastating and Celene didn't know if she wanted to claim her with a passionate kiss or hide her away from the interested party goers. Be it for lust or advantage, none of them had the right to look upon Briala, yet when she noticed a few of the Elvhan servants gazing upon one of their own with barely disguised pride, Celene felt joy that she played a part in that.

Briala was walking towards her with obvious intent only to be intercepted and whisked away by Lady Trevelyan. The Lioness' eyes narrowed as she saw Lady Trevelyan loop an arm around Briala's waist and pull her closer than propriety dictated, feeling the urge to bodily separate them rising strong and swift within her. Yet she couldn't risk herself in the Game for so small a reason, not when the vultures around her would use anything they could in their plots to ruin and usurp. Instead the Empress watched the two women twirl and flow upon the dance floor, Trevelyan was a weaker lead than she expected, but Briala back led with ease, maintaining their flow with the music. Envy clawed at her throat before she swallowed it down, knowing she would never be able to share such a dance with her beloved.

Out on the dance floor, Briala fought back a sneer at the deliberate grip that Trevelyan had upon her hand and waist. She could break away, but not without causing a scene and undermining the reason she was here in the first place. Instead, she struggled to keep a neutral face and not glower at the slight smirk that lit up the country noble's face. Trevelyan laughed and leaned closer and Briala tamped down on the urge to slap or, as she truly wanted, to punch the elf-blooded human.

"Don't look so tense Marquise, the Empress might think that you aren't very fond of me."

Hazel eyes closed and Briala mentally counted to 10 in Fereldan basic and in Orleasian and then threw in Dalish for good measure.

"You are making quite the statement tonight...one might think you are staking a claim."

"-which you've interrupted…"

Trevelyan chuckled at the obvious annoyance despite the fake smile plastered upon the Marquise's face while she turned them so that her back was to the Empress.

"Yes, but before you gut me I did so for your sake. Look over my shoulder and tell me if Celene's face is composed."

Briala bit back a gasp at the raging jealousy that burned in glittering sapphire eyes but it both warmed and broke her heart to see it. Who was the source of her ire? Trevelyan? Or was it Briala herself that she was furious with? After all, Trevelyan had been pressing her case quiet boisterously lately. Still, one must never appear anything the poised in the face of an enemy. She broke her gaze with her moonlight and met the amused one of the country bumpkin. "She looks like she is contemplating your death, actually." Trevelyan merely nodded and grinned as if they were sharing some secret.

"Good to hear. But be warned Marquise, a love like that doesn't do well hidden and denied. Your stations separate you, but Celene is reaching a breaking point. If she cannot build a way over the wall that Orlais has placed between you…then I fear she shall go through it. If she does, you may be the only one left alive in the rubble. Take heed to my words…she is like a pot boiling over, either you must temper her or be prepared to weather the storm."

Briala's eyes widened and Trevelyan smiled a secret smile; it would seem she underestimated this country noble and she would need to keep a closer eye upon her. Were her overtures towards Celene a ploy to incite Briala and to keep Celene off guard? Before she could question the suddenly enigmatic noblewoman, the dance ended and Trevelyan bowed and drifted away, leaving Briala to her own devices. Taking a steadying breath, the Marquise of the Dales strode towards her Empress once more with purpose in her heart.

"May I have this dance Your Radiance?" Celene watched as Briala curtsied low, the subtle reminder of their stations pricking somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. To refuse would be petty, and give the nobles fodder to sow strife, yet surely Briala had to realize the statement she was making. Yet she thought of Briala pulled flush against Lady Trevelyan's body as they moved upon the ballroom floor, her annoyance making the decision for her. Celene nodded briefly giving an indulgent smile, keeping it small enough that no noble would assume she was actually _eager_ to be within Briala's embrace.

By the Maker was she eager…embarrassingly so.

The crowd parted for them as they moved to the center of the dance floor and Celene struggled to keep her face neutral despite the longing that clawed at her breast. Had she not wished for this very moment once? The chance to hold her beloved close and dance with her as lovers would? So why was she filled with such trepidation instead? As she felt the many curious eyes upon them, she had her answer, how could she feel joy when these foolish so called nobles derided Briala under their breath? The Empress swallowed her fury, knowing that now was not yet the time to indulge, yet she kept her face ever neutral with only her eyes giving away her tumultuous emotions. They began to move to the music and Celene fought back a swooning sigh. Of course they would move together with such ease, countless nights spent dancing to the beat of their own hearts within Celene's chambers making her heart full with bittersweet joy. Still, she had run headlong into the role of the fool easily enough over the past several months, she had to head Briala's ploy off before she could further the seeds of doubt.

"Marquise, what are you doing?"

Briala ignored the quiet outrage in her beloved's voice for a few moments, instead basking in the simple joy of dancing with the woman she loved. Yet, she could feel the tension that crept into Celene's graceful form and she knew that she could no longer refrain from meeting her beloved's challenge head on. She met those shining sapphires that she had so much trouble resisting, drowning in their depths briefly before answering her sovereign simply.

"Dancing, your Grace."

"Briala, whatever ploy…whatever plot- " Celene had no time to finish as Briala spun her away and then pulled her back to dance a waltz, keeping easy time with the music. The party-goers around them adjusted to their lead, giving them room to move. The Lioness' eyes widened almost comically as they glided across the dance floor, confused by Briala's forward behavior. As her composure shattered, Briala moved her fan in a deftly complicated maneuver, seemingly part of the dance, yet Celene could easily tell it was to aid in masking the face of a shocked Lioness from hungry onlookers hoping for blackmail fodder. The Empress's mind franticly searched through the possible implications. Briala obviously meant to not only make a statement but to catch her off guard yet at the same time she was intent on protecting Celene's status and composure within the Game. While there were more suggestive dances to be had, their place was in a tavern; in the palace the waltz was saved for lovers and over confident suitors. Celene wasn't sure which Briala was at the moment, even as the smaller woman deftly guided her along the dance floor.

Briala merely smiled, not that crooked smirk when one of her plans succeeded, but a genuine smile; the like Celene had not seen since they were young lovers. Her eyes were alight with joy and Celene's battered heart ached pleasantly to see it. It had been so long since she had been the cause of simple joy to her beloved. Still, Celene had learned with visceral brutality the nature of the Game, and Briala had been a most apt pupil. The Empress could feel the scars of her foolish heart and she forced herself to harden her resolve to remain aloof in the face of Briala's joy.

It would never be real, it would always be a ploy, a move to gain advantage, Celene reminded herself bitterly. Briala would never love her; why would she love a master when she could give her heart to an equal? Briala could practically feel when Celene's thoughts grew dark, the shock of Briala's boldness wearing off. Not even publicly placing herself at the mercy of the Game would restore Celene's trust in her, but if it allowed her to chip her armor, she would flow into the cracks like water.

They shared two more waltzes; far more than custom dictated and Celene knew that she would still need to do damage control. Briala bowed to Celene and after they turned and clapped politely in gratitude for the music, Briala turned back to her Empress and spoke, allowing her voice to ring out as the applause faded.

"Gracious Empress, I thank you for your diligent tutelage tonight. I regret that I'm not a pupil worthy of your elegance and grace."

Briala as always was a step ahead. Her words ensured that any that didn't know of their association would assume that Celene, ever benevolent, offered an Elvhan noble some guidance in court etiquette. The human nobles would naturally assume the worse of Briala's upbringing and manners even though any that cared to ask would learn that Briala was tutored either with Celene or by the then young princess herself. The arrogance of her court sickened Celene, in part due to the disconnect from reality many noble could afford to indulge in and the obscenely foolish notion that the arrogant nobles considered all Elvhan to "look alike". How one could look upon Briala's beauty and not be stricken into revered silence and devotion was beyond Celene's ken. Briala didn't come to her again, but she remained carefully within Celene's sight, a whispering beacon amid the drudgery of self-important fools.

Finally Celene had endured enough, leaving the party early and after setting the next move of the Game in place upon many of the nobles she would have to eliminate, the Lioness moved to her bedchambers. She knew with certainty that Briala would come to her tonight, so she dismissed the guard near her door. Celene moved to the nearest sitting table and removed her mask and unbound her hair though she remained standing. She would keep this promise at least, if she could do nothing else. Wearily, the Empress spread her hands across the table's smooth surface, attempting to rally the courage that had long deserted her. Her body trembled in a slight shiver of pleasured surprise as she felt her former spymaster's warm hands begin to dig into her lower back, releasing the tension that seemed to be always present.

"Always so tense, ma vhenan."

The Empress let out a mewling moan as she felt her former handmaiden undo her outer corset and toss it away, even as her wondrous hands moved to release the tension of more of her stubborn muscles. Briala continued her ministrations for a time, easing Celene into pleasured lassitude, knowing hands easing the back of her dress open to her waist. Looking upon the exposed back of her lover, Briala moved forward to place a kiss between her shoulder blades, the highest point she could comfortably reach given their height difference. She trailed her fingers upward reaching broad, yet delicate shoulders coaxing litheness into stiff muscles. Celene leaned forward with a groan and Briala struggled to keep her touches chaste. The Elvhan took a deep breath, tracing warm fingers against her moonlight's spine and she began her entreaty.

"What you want Celene, is a dream. You forget your place…no one can ever be an equal to the Empress of Orlais. My blood has nothing to do with it, Celene… you have done me no wrong. Let me stand by your side vehenara. Let me serve my Empress and love my Celene. You weren't wrong, what we have…please, give me the chance to mend it again. Celene, look at me, please. " She thought of the moments that Celene's staid distance crumbled and the beautiful lover emerged from behind Celene's carefully erected defenses. How she longed for that lover, even with all that had passed between them, she had to let Celene know that she wasn't alone. There had been love between them…there still was. Yet the human was silent, bowed over as if she were the Dread Wolf. Briala felt trepidation try to take root in her heart, but she swept it away, determined to try again.

"The sun and the moon cannot exist one without the other, Celene." The reminder of their inescapable orbit spurred Celene to action as she stood to her full height, meeting Briala's eyes in her mirror.

"Yet, they can never truly be together."

Briala flinched and stumbled back, stung, but she recovered quickly and surged forward to press her warm hands against her beloved's back once again. "Then take it back…tell me that it was all a lie Celene, and I will merely be your Marquise of the Dales." She knew Celene too well, betrayal and loss burned between them, but Celene Valmont the First never rescinded her love for Briala. The challenge would spur Celene into action and finally they could put this broken stalemate aside and move forward together.

It would be so easy to answer Briala's call; she'd spent her life lying and hiding her heart from the world after all. She could truly free Briala from her servitude and keep the promises of her heart to her as well. Except one that lay in wait in a sylvanwood box, hidden so deeply within her vault that even the Inquisitor's careful searching could not find it. Her wandering thoughts shattered as she felt Briala clench the sides of her dress in trembling fists, her eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"Will you say nothing then? Celene, look at me damnit!"

And she did. Celene stared at her sunlight through the mirror and she saw every time Briala was treated as less because she was Elvhan, the slights to her intelligence, to her compassion, to her beauty. She saw the betrayal shining in hazel eyes that finally learned the truth of the Game, and condemned Celene for not being willing to sacrifice her lover in place of Elvhes that she felt remorse for but did not love. She saw the stain in Briala's love, self loathing for willingly submitting to a human, anguish at having never chosen a Elvhan to love instead. She saw the triumph when Briala lit the spark that plunged Orlais into civil war a promise kept and a shameful secret known, that cost Celene her throne, her champion and her lover in one fell stroke. She saw the confusion at Celene's love, steadfast and self destructive, and the press for more…only to further her political position. Yet she saw the one she adored and worshiped, brilliant and cunning, beautiful and strong, kind yet so very cruel to the one that would prostrate and weep at her feet. In seeing Briala, in knowing the price the unworthy love of a human Empress demanded of her, Celene felt clarity and resolve take hold of her soul once more. She would give Briala everything that she deserved and more, and she no longer cared what she had to do in order to make both of their dreams a reality.

Even if it meant finally, finally ripping her worthless heart from her breast.

"I want you to leave, Briala."

Briala blinked several times in shock, but she refused to bank her tears. She would not be the one to hide, while Celene turned inward. She paused to lay one final kiss upon her moonlight's spine, her blood running cold at the lack of reaction. Taking a shaky breath, Briala moved back, tear filled eyes taking in the Lioness; sculpted features stoic and unmoving, her pale, lovely from half bared to her gaze, but cold and alien in her indifference. "If that is your wish my Empress… Je t'aime, clair de lune. Dareth shiral."

Celene forced her face to remain neutral, even in the face of Briala's tears…even as her beating heart, that foolish trophy she had once wanted to offer Briala, shattered. She wrestled her spirit and demanded that her body remain calm as her beloved turned and walked away from her…perhaps for the last time. The Lioness stood rooted to the spot until she was certain that Briala was long gone and with swift, sure steps she moved to her personal vault. She carefully inserted one of her enchanted rings against a seemingly normal brick and murmured an incantation under her breath.

The stone glowed and a smaller vault door opened, twin to the one in Halamshiral that the inquisitor did not find and she pulled out the contents that she secreted to each location whenever she traveled. A silvanwood box engraved with the crest of House Valmont and inlaid with gold. She clutched that box to her breasts holding it tightly and struggling not to weep. She should destroy it and be rid of its hold upon her, but she knew that she would sooner slit her own throat.

The Empress sunk to her knees, heedless of her expensive gown pooled at her waist as she forced her arms to uncurl from the box and she set it in front of her and opened it with her enchanted ring. Nestled within the purple velvet confines of the sylvanwood box lay two items. The first was a mask of purest gold and ivory, cast in Briala's likeness to match her own coronation mask with emerald gemstones instead of sapphires; fashioned to offset and highlight Briala's eyes. The second item was a crown of gold, sapphire and pearl, made in the fashion of delicate branches, so as to not diminish the playful brilliance of Briala's exquisite cinnamon curls. Celene had spent a fortune to have these commissioned after spending several years searching for the best jewelrysmith in Orlais.

In truth, the items were more beautiful than Celene's own coronation treasures; a deliberate statement made by the Empress to show any that would dare decry their union, Briala's true worth within her heart. The Empress had gone to the artisan herself and in no uncertain terms promised her wealth beyond her wildest dreams if she crafted what Celine desired… and a very certain and painful death if she breathed a word of her task to anyone. The artisan had kept Celene's secret for all of these years; well enough that even Briala had never discovered the cherished box.

These items were meant for a Queen; meant for the only Queen Celene's heart wanted. How she had dreamed of the day that she and Briala would kneel before the Divine and the Maker and that she would finally be able to settle this crown upon her beloved's brow. How she had longed for the moment that she no longer had to hide her soul's joy as if she were some torrid mistake, when she was all Celene had ever truly wanted. These items were meant to represent freedom…for both of them. She had them crafted when she had still been naive enough to believe that her cunning and her passion would allow her to hold both Orlais and Briala both within her grasp. When she lost Briala's love, they had served as a reminder of why she had to defeat Gaspard; if nothing else than to show Briala that she was not the monster that her beloved had feared her to be and to atone to the Queen now forever lost to her.

Now, they would be the proof of her failure. Briala had only come to her for power's sake and even if she hadn't, Celene could never place this crown upon her beloved's head with her bloodsoaked hands. Briala had seen enough horror in her life; she should not have to love its incarnation as well. The Empress understood this…she knew what she had done tonight was for the best. Yet as her tears finally, finally began to fall, plinking delicately against the now useless treasures and a low, wounded keening sound lurched from deep within her shattered soul, it was all she could do to not let madness and despair sweep her away in to its cold, dark embrace.

She blinked her eyes and Celene the lover lay tucked away bleeding and raw, but where her pain could not scour an already shattered soul further. The Lioness would be needed now, only the mistress of the Grand Game could make things right. Heedless of the sight she made with hair unbound and breasts free and her expensive gown crumpled, half-forgotten at her waist she lifted up the velvet inset of the box, revealing a hidden compartment. With unnaturally steady hands, she lifted the old parchment, stained with blood lettering and held it aloft so that she could read it. She intoned the dark incantation that she had discovered in her youth but had bided her time, waiting until she had gained a greater understanding before calling forth its master. Lyrium lines began to cross her skin, spreading like the blight itself a result of years of enchanted tea and the drops she drank to ease her into the Fade. She was no mage and she had no desire to become an addled minded addict like the Templars so it had taken so long…almost too long to prime herself. Yet Morrigan had unwittingly helped in her quandary, casting what she thought were mindless incantations to appease a noble with more money than sense. Celene had found a way to make herself a beacon, without shattering her mind and she had spent years…decades, pouring over tomes to allow her to craft the perfect geas. When the spirit came into existence, primal and wondrous and terrible and serene and enraged Celene smiled with relief, and not an ounce of regret.

"How I have awaited your call young one, come, tell me I know what it is that you adore, what you yearn for….but what will you give to have it?"

"Everything."

* * *

I started to make Celene attempt to seduce Trevelyan to throw Briala off the trail…but then a Free Marshes noble would turn up dead and Orlais and Fereldan would go to war again. Besides her actual plan was drastic enough.

I'd always gotten the sense that Celene was proud of her reign as Empress, that despite everything levied against her she was building an Orlais that would one day be a seat of culture and freedom. Yet I felt that she personally felt like an utter failure as a lover to briala. For all of her pride, she sounded so…defeated when the inquisitor confronts her with Briala's locket and I feel that as with any perfectionist the last person she will ever forgive…is herself.


End file.
